


The Meaning of French Toast.

by the-canary (siruru)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, F/M, Feelings Realization, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Love Confessions, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Reader-Insert, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 08:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15457581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siruru/pseuds/the-canary
Summary: It meant a lot of things, including what you felt for each other.





	The Meaning of French Toast.

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of a smaller drabble from Halycon. It took a lot longer than I thought it would, but I hope you enjoy it!

_ “And if we’re both single by 30, I’ll ask you out on a date. Hell, I’ll even marry ya.”  _

Is it stupid to cling to a drunk’s words from your college years? Yeah, you’re pretty sure it is, but you couldn’t help it when it came to him -- that bastard, James Buchanan Barnes. You were a little too sober and he was  little too drunk, at least you think, when he said those words back at the college graduation party and because of your  _ teeny-tiny _ crush you clung to them. You waited patiently, though your own failed romances and his own, and now here you were -- two days after your 30th birthday, a couple of months after his own, in your favorite brunch place on a bright Saturday morning.  

It was what you guys always did in order to take a break and catch up. You had been doing it as long as you could remember, however there were also exceptions to the rule, though James always made sure to tell you ahead of time, not the morning of.

_ Bucky: Had a late night. Could we meet up later instead?  _

You type an “okay” and pretend that you have forgotten about the whole thing, the whole stupid notion that has been swirling in your head over the past 6 years because it’s only seems to be you carrying this makeshift battle wound. You’re sort of glad you didn’t go all out today on your outfit like you were planning to, it seems to ease the blow. So, when your usual waitress looks at the empty seat next to you and your watery smile, she can’t help but frown a little and you know what she wants to say, but you bite your lip and simply order. 

“French toast to go, please.”  

* * *

 

**Freshman.**

You first meet a young and nervous James Buchanan Barnes during that stupid freshman orientation because you were stuck in the same group with him and some other girls. Even then, James knew he could steal the crowd with a smile and an easy joke, maybe it had something to do with those hypnotic blue eyes or charming Brooklyn accent that filtered through a crooked smile. You hate the whole day because the girls won’t stop giggling whenever he talks -- it also doesn’t help that you have little sleep due to your flight and even now, you’re starting to feel a little homesick, even if you are at your dream school.

It doesn't help that you get lost along the way after orientation because your parents had thought it would be nicer to rent you a hotel and you had never been able to read a map. 

“Hey, are you lost?” a familiar voice causes you to look up to see blue eyes and a crooked smile. You almost want to say no, but your stomach growls instead. He laughs and you want to be buried alive from all the embarrassment you are suddenly feeling.

“If you want, I could should a good diner and help find your place,” he remarks with his hands up, showing that he means no harm at your sudden glare,”Only if ya want.”

“Ok...I guess,” you mumble in defeat as he grins.

“The name’s Bucky Barnes! You were in my orientation group right,” he starts asking as you guys cross the busy New York street, “What are ya studying?”     

Oh, if your younger self knew what 5 years would change, she would surely hate you.

* * *

 

One week. Two weeks. 

Bucky hasn’t contacted you in that amount of time, but you sort of understand. You can see it in the social media you share -- the pretty redhead he seems to be smiling with and while it hurts the center of your chest. You take a deep breathe and choose to ignore it. You’ve had your work cut for you as deadlines starting coming up along with more work and even a business convention. Hell, your family on the West Coast even wanted to see you, so another birthday passed you by and while you tried to convince yourself that it would all get back to normal soon, yet somehow it feels different -- like something important has passed you by. 

Maybe, that's why you were making  french toast from Youtube videos at 2 in the morning. You just couldn’t sleep, thank goodness that Peggy was willing to lend an ear --though you didn’t give her all the details-- from her current trip in London as she had always been an early riser. 

“I don’t know how long I am planning on staying,” you pause between looking at the video and pan at hand,”But, maybe it will be a good break, ya know?”

Peggy hums at the end of your blabbering, “Well, I think you deserve a break and you have the hours for it. Just make sure, you know that you’ll that this is all just temporary. Life changes to quickly, even if you’re trying to run away from it.”

“That obvious, huh?” you question, while transferring the finish toast from the pan onto the plate. Various syrups and jams are on top of the kitchen countertop, alongside some cooled coffee. Peggy laughs, as you sit alone in the complete stillness of your apartment.

“Since sophomore year,” she declares with a laugh that you can’t help but join in, even if a bit bitterly. And in that moment, the french toast in all its sugary goodness tastes like utter defeat.    

* * *

 

**Sophomore.**

In the year and half that you had known Bucky Barnes, you realized that you were sort of wrong about the fella. Yes, he could charm the panties out of almost any girl, you had seen it happen multiple times, but he was also a lot of other things as well. You saw him work to help his sisters and mom, saw him study until early morning after getting out of his work, you saw him breakdown because he was frustrated with the material of his math classes. However, when he triumphed, when something went his way -- the boy was pure gold with that smile of his.   __

“All on me promise,” you declare, as the two of take a seat in the familiar red booth from a year ago. It wasn’t often, due to the money available as a college student, that you guys came here but Bucky had passed his last final, the one that he nearly spent two days without sleep  for, and was officially part of the Engineering program. It was just gonna get tougher from here on out, but you wanted to celebrate with him for a bit.

“You really didn’t have to,” Bucky smiles at the waitress who gives you the menu. You shake your head, already knowing what you want.

“We need to celebrate your accomplishment,” you empathize since Steve and Sam had already taken him out drinking two nights ago, “Besides, who knows when we’ll time for this again.”

“What do ya mean?” he asks almost hesitantly, as you order the french toast and he gets the grand slam breakfast. Blue eyes watching you with purpose, as you simply shrug. 

“Well, I’m studying abroad next semester and you’ll be building shit,” you let out a nervous chuckle, not sure how Bucky will take the news that you’re traveling abroad. He was the only one you hadn’t told, though you aren’t sure why. 

“So, it’s a little busier,” it’s his turn to shrug, “You’re always gonna be just down the hall and we can always call each other. Nobody’s moving away, doll.”

“You should have been an English major, Buck,” you laugh at his sentiment, only for him to smile as the waitress comes and brings your drinks.

* * *

The rest of the time is spent eating, sharing stories and plans -- yours on what you plan on doing in Lisbon and his over his latest conquest. Time seems slower than usual and at the sight of him spitting and laughing orange juice out of his mouth over your comment on sexual skittles, you try to ignore that your heart skips a beat.   

“So, your cousin finally left?” Steve asks as he takes another sip of his beer. It was on of those rare times that the two childhood friends manage to catch-up in between work and Peggy coming home, and that was totally ignoring Bucky’s major problem of the past couple of weeks. 

“Yeah, said she wanted to see Toronto,” Bucky laughs. Natasha, his favorite Russian cousin, and her sort-of American boyfriend had come last minute to enjoy the short break that they had from work, which had coincided with a certain birthday, “Those two are cute together, though.”     

“And have you talked to her yet?” Steve questions, as Bucky turns to look away. The blond had been there all those years ago when Bucky declared what he would do on your 30th birthday. Steve had dickish but friendly tendency to remind him that each year he was closer to finally confessing what he really felt, on the year of it finally happening he had finally left Bucky to do what he had planned. It didn’t turn out so well, and Steve had give him hell for it. 

“I’ve been busy,” Bucky gives as a weak excuse, as Steve decides to throw it all in once and for all. Peggy might get mad at him later, but he was tired of Bucky --with all his charm and know-how-- to be so indecisive when it came to one of their closest friends. I mean, how couldn’t he see it while everyone else did? 

“You know she’s leaving, right?” Steve questions hesitantly, as blue eyes widen. Bucky’s mouth hanging open like a fish mid-drink, unsure of what to say next.

“ _ W-What _ \-- How do you know?”

“She told Peggy that she was heading to the West Coast, back home,” Steve explains, as Bucky just sits there taking all this new information in, “Doesn’t know when she’ll be back.”

Bucky sits on this for a long time, as Steve gives him a regretful smile. He gets up, leaving his beer halfway done, before telling Steve he has to go, nearly running out the door -- a thousand of mistakes rearing back in his head.

_ She can’t leave. I have to tell. Should have told years ago, you fucking idiot. _

* * *

**Junior.**

It’s a couple of weeks after the couch incident and as much as you want to ask Bucky if he’s all right and how is it going with his secret crush, but midterms come around and you get stuck in the library with a lengthy research paper. While, Bucky had gone to a robotics competition, and for some reason you missed him terribly. You briefly wonder if this is how he might have felt when you were gone the first half of the year, though you doubted it -- Bucky always had a catch at hand. 

It isn’t until you’re in a drunken stupor with Peggy, watching the couples dance from the upper level of the bar that it hits you like a freight train.

“Pegs,” you hiccup terribly, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. She sighs, you had always been a sentimental drunk, “I think I love Bucky.” 

“That took you long enough,” she states as she drags the two of you away from the flashing lights, probably to call a cab back to your apartment building, “Think about it and tell if you really feel that way in the morning.”

“Okay, mom,” you murmur sleepily on her shoulder, as she shakes her head. 

And with a sober mind, the next time you see Peggy, you just confirm that aching feeling in your heart. 

* * *

   It takes him a whole day to put everything he wants to say to you together, to gain the courage to go up to your front door and knock on it. However, what Bucky wasn’t expecting was you with a watery smile while folding up some clothes and a rolling bag in your living room, though it still seems all your furniture is in tact -- at least for now. 

“Bucky,” you question softly as he turns to look at you. Your eyes are wide and questioning as he pulls your body into his. You grow stiff for a moment and Bucky starts babbling before he loses all his well-crafted confidence. 

“ **I love you** ,” he exclaims, as you let out a barely audible  _ what  _ but he keeps going, “I’ve been such a fool for so long, but if you’re leaving -- I--I just needed to let you know. I know I left you hanging on your birthday, but I was scared...so scared you would have forgotten. I don’t think my heart would’ve taken it.” 

He stops talking and you’re still in the middle of your doorway, but he doesn't seem like he’ll let you go anytime soon. Thus, you decide that you need some answers in this horrible mess. 

“Forget what, James?” you wrap your arms around his, as he places his forehead next to your cheek knowing what the use of his first name --that you want the complete truth-- means between the both of you.

“Okay, I think we need to back up and talk about this,” you explain pushing him away, but making sure that he comes inside so that you can have that long talk. It seems to be needed between the two of you. 

* * *

 

**Senior.**

Graduation party **.**

You’re both drinking a little too much, while sitting the balcony as the party continues inside. The both of you are lamenting a lot of things at the end of the road, as the two of you smile and laugh at ending this chapter of your lives -- you staying in New York and Bucky moving to Florida for awhile.

“I’m gonna miss ya, Bucky,” is all you manage to say in a whine breaking the silence, as blue eyes never seem to stop looking at your face.    

“I’ll be back. It’s just a summer program,” he tries to calm you down, while rubbing your back.

“But, it won’t be the same,” you cry out,“We’ll get jobs, barely see each other, and one day have a significant other -- hell, maybe even kids and then well ask:  _ What happened to that chick I knew in college.”  _

“That might not happen,” he explains, as you lean into his body, humming softly so close to believing him, but really not, “ _ And if we’re both single by 30, I’ll ask you out on a date. Hell, I’ll even marry ya.” _

“Ya promise?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

 

It takes all night to explain just exactly what is going on between the two of you. The mistake of who Natasha really is and why Bucky had ignored you for three weeks. You explain where you are going to for the next couple of weeks, simply see some family and attend a conference for the company that you work with. There is still one unanswered question between the two of you, though all that is left unsaid for sleep and in the morning for food. You’re smiling and he is too, and doesn’t seem to want to let go of your hand at all as you take a seat on the other side of the booth, only for him to scoot closer to you than usual. 

It’s a familiar type of clatter, but your head is somewhere else as you grab Bucky’s hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. Your heart speeding up in your chest, as you stare at anything but him. 

“I’ve got one last question,” you whisper softly, moving your eyes to stare at the table top, Bucky tells the waitress if she could wait a bit longer.

“Did you mean...when you said…,” your voice stops as Bucky moves your chin with his free hand so that you’re starting at him completely.

“Yup,” he says with a wide grin without missing a beat, “Have for a long time now, doll.” 

“Then, you owe me a birthday kiss, big boy,” you giggle out in excitement and relief as his blue eyes sparkle with something else completely. The table makes it awkward, but be manages to have enough room to move you into his body and give you a peak on the lips, but as he moves away you grab his cheeks and drag him back into a longer, more desperate version that has the both of you smiling.

“Finally!” a female voice declares, dragging you and Bucky away from each other with nervous chuckles as your usual waitress just shakes her head, “Took you guys long enough.” 

She smiles, as you order your usual and for once, the taste of the french toast had never been sweeter.


End file.
